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by MartinaHolmes



Series: Come Back [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Feelings, Hangover, M/M, Non-Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock and John reunite, Shock, a bit of sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:55:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartinaHolmes/pseuds/MartinaHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A second part of the series where John realises Sherlock is alive...and in his kitchen. Quite emotional and both men still can't seem to cope with what happened (especially John).</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> my second piece of the series with applied criticism.Hope y'all like it and please please comment! I appreciate all your feedback :)

John opened his swollen eyes and shifted in his bed abruptly. No, not his bed. Sherlock's bed. Was he so desperate for comfort of his best friend after last night's catastrophe at the club that he landed in his bed? And then it hit him. It wasn't his subconscious longing that brought him here last night, it was Sherlock himself. 

John's racing heart skipped a beat as he sat up on the bed at once trying to comprehend the happenings of the previous evening. He had a few drinks and everything went blank. He could not remember a thing. Apart from.. “Shit..no way.” whispered John to himself as he looked around the floor for his jeans and his sweaty t-shirt. He couldn't find either. All of a sudden he found himself questioning his own moral stability (not that he hadn't for the past months). Could it really be Sherlock that brought him here, back from the dead, waiting for John in a dark alleyway? “Bulls-” started John but half way through the curse his body tensed as he heard quiet rumbling in the kitchen of 221b. 

John got up instantly, covering his pale, naked body with the bed sheets whilst trying to listen in to make out if it really could be Sherlock, his Sherlock ,in the kitchen. The kettle began boiling and a muffled sound of tea cups being prepared stiffened john's body. Pouring rain, banging off the windows of Sherlock's bedroom added to Johns confusion as he failed to put his thoughts in a logical pile.

Slowly and quietly John turned the handle of the bedroom door trying to ignore the horrible dryness in his mouth and the pounding headache that seemed to never leave him. As quietly as he could he moved across the corridor to the kitchen and prepared himself for anything that he might see. Disappointment flooded John's mind as he began to picture Mrs. Hudson or Greg making tea in his kitchen. How much pain will he have to endure when he finds out it was only a dream, a very realistic painful dream that brought him back to Baker Street. With one last step he turned towards the kitchen and faced his guest.

Unchanged. That's what Sherlock was, standing in the middle of the kitchen with two cups of tea in his hands. His long coat and scarf hanging against one of the chairs, still damp from the pouring rain. Sherlock's curls surrounded his pale, sharp face, clearly tired, with drawn eyes and an exhausted look. Hardly any colour was left in him but he was real, back where it all started. 

John gave a frightened gasp and leaned against the nearest wall trying to understand what he was seeing. All of a sudden all the memories he had from last night in the dark alley came back and hit him in the chest making his breaths short and irregular. It was Sherlock , he would know him anywhere , in his best disguise or in dark alleys. He knew it was him. 

Sherlock put the cups of tea on the table in front of him and looked down on to the floor as if he was a small child caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing. Detective's steady hands began to tremble slightly as he slowly looked up at John and pierced him through with his deep look. 

“Good morning John,”said Sherlock almost inaudibly giving his fear and embarrassment away. “I made you some tea...-” began the detective but was quickly turned down by John who was still standing in the door way, holding on to the wall. His face, very pale this morning began to circulate colour, blood flooding his cheeks. He bit his lip as if to stop himself from spitting out every curse he could think of. 

“You..,” whispered John in between his staggered breaths that he seemed to be in no way able to control, “You...were dead. I saw it. I SAW you..” continued John feeling tremendous anger building up inside him. How long had he waited, had he believed that any sign of Sherlock was still out somewhere, still alive, still existing. How many nights had he imagined the beautiful image of Sherlock walking back to Baker Street as if nothing had happened, tall and brave, proud and strong, back with John. 

And now John was looking at his best friend again, in front of him, as if the past months were only a one nights dream that he woke up from today. Then why was he feeling all this anger that was building up like a storm unable to be tamed. Why did he feel like each part of his body wanted to place his fists around Sherlock's neck and scream at the man until he could no longer feel his throat. He felt betrayed. 

“John I couldn't let you know, I couldn't. I tried for days on end but they wouldn't let me reveal myse-” tried Sherlock but once again the doctor stopped him with his hand in the air, pleading the detective to stop speaking. 

“I only wanted to know you were still there...still..” John muttered through his teeth, feeling exhausted from all the feelings he was put through.

Sherlock drew in a couple of breaths before trying to disturb the other man from his thoughts. “I'm back now John.” whimpered Sherlock smiling,without any confidence in his statements. He knew whatever he said John is not going to forgive him for what he has done. 

Holding back his fury from Sherlock became impossible as soon as he saw that naughty smile he knew so well creeping in on Sherlock. “And I bloody well see that you are! You're back! Suddenly you're back! What do you want then?!” yelled John taking in a couple of breaths before feeling tremendous pain in his chest. “I was so hurt, so alone without you... And all that time you were lying to me. I thought you were gone and dead.. do you understand me?!” He shouted his emotions almost loud enough for the whole block to her him. John felt as if the ground underneath shifted and he took a few steps towards the detective for balance. 

Only now John began to notice that a lot actually changed about Sherlock. A few scars were visible on his face, and his hair coved his tired eyes. Sherlock's face itself was a lot more skinnier than when John last saw him, cheekbones almost pierced through his pale skin. Now that he was standing so close to Sherlock, he could distinctively smell the same sweet perfume of the detectives body making him miss all the closeness that they once had. 

“It was so hard for me..” began the doctor. A hot and wet feeling crept up his throat forcing its way out. “It was so bloody hard...” sobbed John into his hand as if trying to hide away from Sherlock's piercing gaze. 

Sherlock didn't know what to do. He wanted to give the man his space to think and come to terms with what just happened, but seeing John sob so heartbreakingly into his hands, covered only by the bedsheets, broke any barriers Sherlock might have had before. He closed the distance between the two of them and took John into his arms. 

Doctors sobs began to grow even louder now that all of his pain from the past months was spilling out. He acknowledged the warmth of Sherlock's long fingers holding him tightly but felt foolish for letting Sherlock see him so weak, so bare. Sooner or later Sherlock would have to witness the damage he had done to John.

Only after a good few minutes of savouring the relief his outbreak brought him, John began to calm down. He could feel the detectives slow, deep breaths and a loud beating sound coming from underneath his shirt. Listening in like that he became ashamed of himself, wondering if Sherlock noticed how much of a calming quality the beating of his heart had on him. He stepped back and looked up at Sherlock's face. His expression worried. 

“I'm sorry... I'm better now.. I'll go and get changed..um..yeah.” stammered John as he turned his back at Sherlock wanting to leave the kitchen and think about everything under the hot shower. He wanted to get away from Sherlock for now. From the same Sherlock that saw his so feeble and fragile. 

“John.” breathed the detective wanting to catch just a bit more of john's look. The doctor stopped and turned round, not being able to hide the exhaustion from all that happened.

“I will wait here for you” said Sherlock with depth in his voice making John's stomach turn even more drastically. 

All John could force himself to do was to nod at the sad ,pale face of Sherlock's before turning round to go to the bathroom, tears covering his cheeks.


End file.
